Thanatos Rising
by Azrielle.Antoinette
Summary: Harry Potter has died a villain. He saved the wizarding world, yet, who could say he really saved it when he was the head of the division committing mass creature genocide? Light is dark and dark is light and what is right is wrong. He has no control over his destiny. But what is he to do when he has lived his life one too many times. He's too tired for this and he no longer cares.


**Warning: Language, gore, angst, ideologically sensitive**

Darkness surrounded me. The smell of rotting flesh permeated the air and I couldn't help but to be disgusted. It was in my hair, in my nose... it was in my flesh. I looked down at my hands and saw the flesh rotting right off the bones. It felt weird. I knew that it should hurt, yet, it didn't. I found it rather fascinating really.

But why didn't it hurt?

Shouldn't it hurt to have the flesh rotting off of your bones? To hear the squelch as it tore itself free from your bones and landed in the slowly rising pile that I use to call me?

Was all this hitting the floor what I use to be? Could I really consider myself human when all this disgusting gelatin like substance is smacking the ground and causing even the maggots that call it home to become sick?

What happened to me?

Is this what happens to those who turn against themselves? Is _this_ what happens when you choose a life of nothingness to a life of fulfillment? Could I have really been the one who caused my own downfall?

They have said before that "_**The road to happiness is paved with good intentions**_" but were my intentions really good for everyone, or only good for me?

With how I look, I'd say it was probably only good for me, it makes sense really.

Instead of taking time to help people, I crushed them beneath my feet. I didn't listen when I should have. I didn't help the people of my world when I was in charge, instead, I wasted my life away, trying to hide from the press.

Am I any better than Voldémort?

At least he had a reason for his involvement, even if it wasn't a good one. He wanted the creatures and the Dark Arts to be given a chance. I just stepped in his way and ruined everything. Remus would have been killed had he lived, killed like Teddy had been. And that was simply because he was the child of a werewolf, not a werewolf himself!

And now, any person who has a creature inheritance that can be considered dark is killed. I should know, I was in-charge of going after most of them. How could I have been so blind?

Mother, forgive me. Father, I have failed you. I understand now. I am here within my own Hell because of what I have done. I am re-living what all those creatures- no - people had to go through because of my own ignorance. Am I truly worthy of the title _Saviour_? Whom did I save? Cedric, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, and so many more died because I didn't kill Voldémort sooner.

But should Voldémort really have been killed? Maybe he was lead to his own destruction. Surely he couldn't have been like this in the beginning? No one is completely bad, not even when their soul is split. And shouldn't the horcrux have been sent right back to Voldémort's body? A soul can't just die like that.

Maybe if I had the chance to do it all over again I could change things. As many times as it took. Not only to save myself from this Hell, but all the others...

I sighed and looked back down at my feet where my rotting flesh was... or should be. What happened to it.

I felt my eyes widen as I looked back at my hands and noticed that they were whole once more.

"What the-"

"_Language Mr. Potter. It wouldn't do to use the name of where you are would it_?"

I looked up and couldn't help but stare. The man before me reminded me of the Weasley's, though the hair is where the resemblance ended. The man's hair was blood red and his skin pale. He had black and white streaks floating beneath the surface and what seemed like yellow eyes behind orange sunglasses. He was muscular, but not too much, and wore muggle clothing and a collar around his neck with the runes for bind and secure.

"Who are you?" I asked before stumbling, remembering my manners at the last second and throwing in, "Sir."

The man chuckled and slipped up to me where I was secured in my chair, "_Ah, Mr. Potter, my name is Thanatos. I was sent here by the higher ups. The Twelve Olympians as you would call them. Seeing how you are a direct descendant of the ones who are said to have outsmarted me, the so called 'Three Brothers', I have decided to give you a gift. Seeing how you are my 'Master' I will allow you to return to the day your life changed, the day you got that scar. And until you have lived a life that has the outcome that I wish it to, you will return here at your death, be forced to go through the melting of your flesh each time, and then be returned to the same time __**each, and every, time**__. Do you understand me?_"

I thought over everything. For one, I would be allowed out of this Hell and be able to change things as what happened in my time never really happened. But on the off chance that I didn't get it the first time, I would have to return. It was pretty straight forward, no noticeable loopholes. "I understand."

Thanatos smiled a grim smile and stroked the side of my face, "_So mote it be_." His smirk widened as his hand slowly reached towards the, now faded, scar upon my forehead, "_Also Potter, I suppose I should tell you this now, be careful who you choose as friends as they could make the difference of whether or not you end up here again. Also, I suppose I should tell you this before I say goodbye, beware of your inheritance. It will strike sooner than you think_."

With that, Thanatos touched my scar and I was sent into blood boiling agony and passed out to the sound of laughter.


End file.
